


Radio Personality

by daftalchemist



Series: A Loosely Related Series of Events [2]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M, Orgasm Denial, Tentacle Dick, Tentacle Sex, dommy Cecil, followed by dorky cecil, on the air
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 09:04:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/911392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daftalchemist/pseuds/daftalchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos wishes Cecil could be a little more outgoing in the bedroom, but Cecil only finds the confidence to do so while on the radio.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Radio Personality

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, thanks to suberduck (he knows who he is) for giving me a preliminary beta  
> Second, thanks to my moirail f1rstperson for giving it a thorough grooming. You keep my shit polished and nice and I wouldn't even BE in the Night Vale fandom if not for you and I love you 5ever you wonderful human being.  
> Third, if you haven't read the first fic of this series, you're going to be a bit confused about my Cecil headcanon, so I would recommend checking that out first, because that headcanon will be carried throughout this whole series.

It wasn't the first time Carlos had been to Night Vale Community Radio, but it was the first time he had been there because of an urgent request from Cecil. Carlos had thought at first that there might have been an accident at the radio station, but he didn't see any Secret Police on hand to cover anything up when he arrived, so that was quite a relief. Then he thought that perhaps someone had called in with scientific intrigue since he was frequently using Cecil's show as a way to get the word out. But when he got to Cecil's booth, he found the actual urgent matter was a lot...sexier.

Things had been a lot better between them since Cecil had gotten over his initial fear of letting Carlos see the “real” him, or at least Carlos _assumed_ it was the real Cecil. The implications that the...creature, or whatever it was, that emerged during climax was something possessing Cecil instead of being his true form was somehow much more frightening a thought to Carlos, even with his scientific curiosity. But even after a month of repeatedly coaxing him to feel more confident, and of assuring him that Carlos was very much okay with every aspect of his other form, Cecil still hadn't grown any bolder in that regards. It was starting to wear on Carlos a bit; he knew Cecil loved him but he really wished Cecil would _want_ him every once in a while.

So when Carlos found himself pinned against the door the moment he entered the room, with Cecil's lips pressed hungrily against his own and a leg between his, pressing wonderfully against him, Carlos melted into Cecil's touch. He loved when Cecil thought he was beautiful, when Cecil lovingly tucked a lock of his “perfect hair” behind his ear, and when Cecil's face lit up like a motion-activated porch light the moment Carlos entered the room. But the thing Carlos officially loved most of all was when Cecil was needy and desperate for him, because there was no finer compliment than having the lanky radio host wrapped around him.

Carlos didn't know where the latest intern was, but he guessed it was somewhere mysterious and most likely lethal. He was glad, as callous as that seemed, because the speed at which Cecil had Carlos undressed and writhing in his lap on his desk chair was dizzying, and there'd been no time to shoo anyone out. Cecil had already been at the station for about an hour, but he still had fifteen minutes more before his show started, and at this rate he was going to have Carlos finished in five.

The air of the station felt so cold against his rapidly heating body, but Carlos refused to ask for his t-shirt back, wanted Cecil to see every inch of him as he blushed and shivered under his touch, wanted Cecil to get flustered and sweaty in that cardigan and tie and have to sit through his show with the sticky sensation reminding him of what would be waiting for him when he was done with work, because Carlos was certainly going to show Cecil his thanks for this later that night.

And Cecil _did_ enjoy the show, Carlos happily noted, as he was unable to keep his hands and off the scientist: tracing the lines of his pelvis, running them along his waist and hips, all the way up to tease his nipples to stiffness. Carlos shuddered and moaned, cheeks burning at the thought of how on display he was, like a play performed just for one, just as he often felt like the only person tuned in to Night Vale Community Radio when Cecil was talking about him.

For all his rushing a moment ago, Cecil was taking his time now, all languid tentacles gently brushing against Carlos' nipples and ass. The sudden change of pace was agonizing, his body so sensitive from what he had assumed was a mad dash to the finish line, and each soft caress sent a shock through his spine, giving them an impression more of love bites than light fondling. Carlos shuddered as a tentacle slid against his cleft, pressing softly against his hole. It was wonderful, of course, but he was painfully aroused, pre-cum dripping steadily down his twitching cock, and _now_ Cecil decided to tease him.

“Cecil,” he whined greedily against the radio host's lips as he undid his trousers, freeing just two of his iridescent black tentacles before a larger appendage was pinning Carlos' wrists together behind his back, and Carlos couldn't help but whimper in anticipation.

For how unfazed Cecil was attempting to appear, he couldn't hide the violet flush that touched his cheeks and the quiver in his lower lip from Carlos' brief touch, and Carlos' dick ached at the thought that Cecil was holding himself back.

“ _Cecil_ ,” he pleaded, more urgently because they were running out of time and he was running out of patience and, despite his tattoos bubbling up from his collar and from under his shirt cuffs, Cecil hadn't even manifested a single extra eye yet and he needed to catch up quickly.

“Yes,” Cecil agreed as his eyes grew an inky black, pupils the deepest purple. “Yes, of course.”

And then those two tentacles were slowly pressing into him, and Carlos' body arched so violently as he keened that he was certain he would have fallen off the chair if Cecil's arm-like tentacles weren't so damn strong that they could support a grown man's weight with no effort at all. But Cecil was still holding back, only just now blinking a third eye open, and Carlos began to wonder what was going on before the tentacles slicking up his insides started taking turns assaulting his prostate as a third wrapped around his cock, and he shuddered as a choked sob escaped his throat, his mind blanking so thoroughly that he didn't even hear what Cecil was saying to him. Some mix of words that was indistinct and mysterious and incomprehensible with a third tentacle pressing eagerly against his entrance, and Carlos was already so close, so very close, but the tendril around his dick was tightening around the base and Cecil was still talking, and Carlos focused his mind enough to bring his attention back to Cecil and ask _why_ he was doing this, and what Carlos saw in that moment was the single most horrifying thing he'd ever seen since first setting foot inside of the hellish town he called home.

“Welcome to Night Vale,” Cecil intoned, headphones securely over his ears, microphone so close to both their faces, and the 'On Air' light very much on above him and— _fucking hell—_ he'd done this on purpose!

Carlos tried to calm himself. This couldn't work. There was no _way_ Cecil could school his voice to sound as calm and collected as he normally did. The listeners would know something was wrong, and Cecil would be in serious trouble, possibly even out of a job, or out of a life!

“I have to apologize, listeners,” he continued, voice noticeably strained, “but I'm feeling a bit under the weather today.” A single tentacle slipped deeper inside Carlos, straining Cecil's voice for added effect, and Carlos quivered at the sensation. Bastard! “And since we've yet to find a suitable replacement for our last intern, it seems I'm the only one who can do the show, even with a voice so hoarse. And the show must go on, or Station Management will surely destroy us all.”

This wasn't happening. There was no way this was actually happening.

“But don't worry, dear listeners,” Cecil said with the most _evil_ grin Carlos had ever seen, “because my _beautiful_ boyfriend, Carlos, is here to keep me company in my time of illness. Maybe I'll even be able to convince him to say something on air.”

All three of the tentacles nestled deep within Carlos whipped against his prostate simultaneously as Cecil finished that sentence, and Carlos only just barely managed to bite back an agonized moan as his vision went starry and his dick twitched helplessly, unable to achieve the release he wanted so fucking badly. He just wanted to come already, and get out the studio and go home to plot terrible revenge. Instead he settled for glaring death at Cecil, and Carlos hoped his _boyfriend_ understood just how he wouldn't hesitate to strangle the host on the air if his hands weren't trapped behind him.

“But I had better not talk about Carlos for _too_ long,” said Cecil as a fourth tentacle pressed against Carlos' entrance, and he hoped the tiny distressed squeak he couldn't stop wasn't terribly audible over the air. “It seems that we've gotten a few _anonymous emails_ complaining about my so called 'obsession' with Night Vale's favorite scientist. Something about spending all of my time talking about how perfect his hair is, and how gorgeous his smile is, like that one right there-”

There was no smile. There was a bottom lip being bitten to the point of bruising and eyes screwed shut tight enough to block out the light.

“And, apparently, _someone_ thinks I should be spending more time talking about the continuing expansion of the dog park. You know what? Let's drop the pretense. We _all_ know who sent those messages. We _always_ know who sends the anonymous messages, and that's _Steve Carlsburg_ ,” Cecil finished with a hiss, his tentacles thrashing angrily inside Carlos, and he was certain everyone listening must have heard the pitiful whine that tore from his throat as the one wrapped around his cock squeezed even tighter, cutting off the orgasm he wanted so desperately to happen, if only Cecil would just let him _finish._ And how was _he_ not dying to come? His face was steadily turning a darker shade of purple, his tongue had forked, and every tentacle that wasn't busy keeping Carlos trapped in a prison of the most terrible pleasure he'd ever experienced was repeatedly curling in on itself, unable to sit still for even an instant. If only Carlos could _reach_ him, he'd have Cecil whimpering just like he was, have that strained voice cracking completely as he rushed over to the weather to fuck Carlos properly, and—

 _The weather_.

Carlos didn't know how he hadn't realized it before. The weather was his salvation. He only had to hold out that long, but he had no way of knowing how long that would be.

“I don't know how Steve even _knows_ there's been an expansion to the dog park,” Cecil was saying, “since no one is supposed to go near it or even _look_ at it. It's like he _wants_ the hooded figures to grow tired of our insolence and slaughter us a-AHll.”

Carlos flashed the most evil shit-eating grin he could manage as he ground himself down on Cecil's lap, and gleefully watched as another pair of eyes opened below Cecil's normal two and his face turned the darkest violet. He glared at Carlos for just a moment before making slightly exaggerated coughing sounds and apologizing into the microphone for some made up scratchy throat problems, but it was obvious from his expression that he knew Carlos had him now, and that he didn't appreciate it. Carlos would have laughed at the hypocrisy of it if Cecil hadn't taken that moment to spread the four tentacles inside Carlos, stretching him gloriously wider, and he shouted, pained but so _very much_ enjoying it.

“Oh no, Carlos,” Cecil said, all feigned surprise and malicious smile. “Be careful with that coffee. It's very hot.”

Carlos mumbled a vitriolic “asshole” back at him as he trembled with the assault on his insides, finding it increasingly difficult to stay silent, to ignore how hot every inch of him felt, to push away the nagging voice in his mind telling him to just get it over with, screw the show up, demand Cecil fuck him on air and _finish it already_.

“And speaking of hooded figures,” Cecil continued after he had regained the upper hand, “it seems that many of the youth in Night Vale seem to have taken to wearing hooded robes and loitering around the dog park, pretending that they are, in fact, actual hooded figures. Witnesses who have seen the teens dressing up in hoods have reported that they were very 'goth' looking. Their faces were painted a blanched white, while their eyes and lips were highlighted with the starkest black cosmetics.”

Cecil paused just long enough to give Carlos a heavy-lidded gaze as he wrapped a hand around his dick and— _fuck—_ he'd manifested his extra mouths and there was _no way_ anyone wasn't hearing the heavy panting Carlos was doing as Cecil rubbed a thumb over the head and lavished a tongue over his cock.

“Look, guys,” Cecil said, strained voice still somehow pulling off just the right amount of condescension, “I shouldn't have to tell you that loitering around the dog park is a terrible idea, but posing as hooded figures? These people will actually tear the skin off your heavily made-up, pallid faces if they catch you, and they _will_ catch you. No one knows exactly how they move because no one has actually _seen_ one of them move, but they get around pretty fast.”

Tears were trickling down Carlos' cheeks, his back arched so painfully that he was almost certain he'd snap in half soon, or at least injure himself seriously if this kept up and-

“And now, the weather.”

The cool, confident radio personality melted away almost instantly as Cecil moaned lewdly and attempted to pull Carlos in for a kiss.

“No, fuck you!” Carlos shouted, out of his mind with arousal and impatience. “Finish it!”

Cecil bit his lip bashfully and Carlos had half a second to wonder if his boyfriend actually had dual personalities before the tentacle around his cock was gone and he was wailing as his orgasm shut down all his mental faculties, seared blinding lights into the back of his eyes, and finally, _finally_ , gave him the sweetest release he'd ever experienced.

The tentacles inside him were slowly retreating, Cecil now just as spent as he was, and the larger one around his wrists loosened as they all began to retreat back into his body, and Carlos lunged for Cecil's lapels, gripping them tightly.

“I. Hate you. _So much_ right now,” he grunted through clenched teeth, incensed by the _audacity_ Cecil had to not only put his own show at risk, but to try to embarrass Carlos so thoroughly.

Cecil's pleased expression dropped so harshly that Carlos was surprised it hadn't broken through the floor as tears welled up in his eyes and he whispered, “You...you do?”

Carlos sighed and wrapped his arms around the host's neck, rubbing his thumb lovingly against the soft hair at his nape, unable to stay mad at such an earnestly heartbroken man.

“Of course I don't,” he said and pressed a soft kiss to Cecil's lips. “I love you, you great idiot.”

Cecil was beaming almost immediately, and Carlos couldn't help but smile back.

“But I _will_ stop coming to the station if you keep doing this,” Carlos said firmly.

“Of course!”


End file.
